


the goosebumps start to rise

by StrangeHormones



Category: Re-Animator (Movies)
Genre: Couch Sex, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Smut, creative use of reagent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:00:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27501949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeHormones/pseuds/StrangeHormones
Summary: daniel cain x virgin!reader| watching all the stars crawl to where you are. crossing through each universe, into the deep we fall.
Relationships: Daniel Cain/Reader
Kudos: 3





	the goosebumps start to rise

There’s a hardness to you. It doesn’t match Herbert’s but Daniel is sure they must be distant cousins. There’s a block, between you and the world. In your eyes. The way you keep your arms tight against your side or shoved in your back jean pockets. Always at arms length. From him, from Herbert’s experiments,  from the world . For a while, he wondered why and when it became clear there was no answer to that question, he accepted it much as he did his other roommate’s chaos. And then it began to slip, not away completely, no, that would be much too simple. Just here and there. Something would slip and vulnerability would encompass you entirely, much the same way Daniel felt himself desiring to when you finally realized your mistake and it was stolen from him. 

Because it is  his . Something he sees that no one else does, perhaps not even yourself. That aching need to be desired. It’s clear you don’t have any idea that it’s not weakness but something closer to Aphrodite that rolls off you. He’s never longed for anything more than he has those precious few seconds where what you might feel like beneath his fingertips isn’t pure fantasy but something tangible. You’re far too used to being passed over to believe any overture he may make in a moment like that. Time spent with scientists like West and ignored by the rest of the male population, contentedness that’s sharp at the edges and cuts anyone who dares draw near has been your survival tool. You live your life a step behind Herbert now, peering over his shoulder with a curiosity that Dan still finds himself incapable of. There is an odd pleasure that takes your face when you receive your metaphorical head pat while you are all but called a  good girl  by the doctor. It is not that vulnerability but it’s the closest you’ve let yourself get admitting the feeling. The sensation of being appreciated, seen, the center of  anything  for just the barest of seconds.

“I need it for comparison,” Herbert’s voice as he returned home, “You’ve never-”

Both your eyes dart to the door, as if he’s an intruder in his own home, it’s all over your face now, “Dan has to be there,” he wants to gather you into his arms, pull you close, “He’s more,” your gaze rolls up to the ceiling as if considering your words carefully, “ Aware .”

Herbert’s noise of contention threatens to slam the door closed but there’s a crack, “Alright,” watching the annoyed man spin on his heels and towards the basement, “In your own time.”

“What’re you two talking about?” he’s breathless, watching your hand shakily drop to beside your denim-clad thigh, blunt nails scratching nervously against the rough fabric before reaching towards him.

“Herbert needs more data,” you try to explain, that slow voice that tells him whatever it is, he is not going to like it, “I’ve never used the reagent like he has.”

He opens his mouth in an attempt to protest but all he can truly focus on is the hand coming closer, “Al-alright,” mouth dry when he laces his fingers between yours, expecting them to disappear like smoke. 

For the first time, it stays and he can take some part of it, if only because you have no other choice but to give it. Down, stair by stair where everything waits for you, the guest of honor. Scuffling against the floor, you’re gestured towards the table and you slip away. He wants to hold you tight, that whatever he’d managed to find would once again be gone squeezes his heart in a vice. You’re focusing on the green of his eyes instead of that vial sitting mere feet from you. Going through the motions of heart rate, blood pressure, every flinch is a scream that he’s ready to answer if West pokes or prods too far.

“You remember what we covered?” it’s odd to see someone’s hands on you, pushing your shirt sleeve up and exposing more skin.

It’s worsened by the fact it’s not him, “Yes,” but his friend who glances over his shoulder with curiosity only to be on the other end of a venomous stare Dan had no idea existed inside himself, “Let you take my vitals, review the rest upon completion.”

“If you refuse to take notes I trust a someone of your intelligence to remember, yes?” the syringe in his hand and looking at you pointedly, much as a stern professor would, “Then would you kindly call off your guard dog?”

“What exactly is the point of this?” he asks, doing just the opposite and standing beside the two of you.

“If I can understand what effect the reagent has on the never been dead,” he answers as if explaining to a child, slipping the needle beneath the skin, “I’ll have more insight into those that have been, now won’t I, Daniel?” thumb pressing on the plunger.

It rips the door off the hinges, your hand grips the edge of the table, Daniel watches stars shoot across your eyes. You bite your lip as you run through everything again, tighter and tighter until both men hear crinkling more akin to wrapping paper than the metal deforming in your hands. It might as well have been Christmas with the way Herbert grinned, jotting down notes madly as he took reading after reading. Missing everything important.

The way your breath hitches, stopping as your head lolls back and then fills you up entirely, it gives life to that part deep inside yourself that only Daniel had seemed sure of the existence of. It blooms across you beautifully, goose-pimpled skin and blown pupils. Would you be as warm as the sheen of sweat blooming against your skin promised? He curls his hand around yours, feeling you shiver under his touch and hum low in your throat. The angry eyes of Herbert he knows well and can only ignore, finding himself lost in the way your tongue darts out to wet your lips and how it would feel running across his own. 

“How do you feel?”

“Untethered.”

Easing one foot onto the floor and then the other, you almost crumble. You feel perfect in his arms, you’re exactly where you should be. Why haven’t you been here the whole time? You’re entire body shivers, every blood cell is electrified, you can feel the air against the inside of your lungs, your feet on the stairs a monotonous beat your heart can no longer manage. For a few minutes longer, you’ll be pressed up against the man far beyond what your waking dreams and desperate subconscious had ever managed to conjure. You’re overwhelmed by him. How gently he holds you, the musky cologne that had faded through his shift and still clung to his skin where it had not been forcibly stripped from his body with soaps and alcohol. He’s yours, while the reagent slithers through your system you will briefly become his whole world. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” slowing in the living room, taking your face in his hands when he was sure your body would finally hold itself upright, “You don’t have to do things like this.”

He’s so much more than concerned, angry, he’s a step away from devastated, “This one I did for me,” your fingers climbing the woolen fabric of his torso, you can feel every fiber catching along their ridges, “One brief high for the sake of science,” but it’s clear that you don’t believe it in the least bit.

Brief, just as this moment could be, each second your artificial confidence moves closer to fizzling out. Would a time ever truly come when you would trust him to see you as he does now and allow him to shatter every doubtful thought? You had seen his watchful eyes, felt them push inside you and still it had taken Herbert and his extremism to even allow you to meet his eyes as you did now. To believe for a moment that perhaps he may ache for you in the same way you had for him. 

“You didn’t have to do it like this,” his thumb strokes your cheek, the other distracted with running along the slick curve of your neck.

You nod, breath coming in short bursts that seemed more habit than necessary, “It’s the only way I could.”

Daniel had always imagined when your lips first met it would be soft, hardly able to tell they were touching. But you’re starved, desperate for affection, hungry for him, gripping his collar tight as you finally lost yourself in the taste of him. His tongue against yours, fingers dancing down your clothed spine and ducking beneath the fabric to caress the taut, twitching muscle with his palms, his fingertips. No extra layer, just the thin sweatshirt you had pilfered from him, his groan is a primal response he would never have chosen to control. He’s desperate for air, as you push farther and deeper. He breaks away panting, his lungs burning and aching as they fill with much-needed oxygen. Your eyes are wide, terrified that somehow the moment has been ripped to pieces and all will be as it was.

Daniel pulls the fabric from your body, it’s as if his hands are everywhere, the tip of his nose against your neck, his lips along your shoulder. Your fingers curl in the hem of his sweater, meaning to drag it upwards and instead somehow shredding it in your fingers like tissue paper. He groaned once again at the sound of clattering buttons, vibrating across your skin till it settled between your thighs. You don’t think of the bedroom or how all of this should be terrifying. Just that you need more, you need him to have all of you and then he’ll understand. He falls against the sofa, tugging at his own slacks when you peel your jeans down your thighs, tossing them to the side with your panties. Your knees fit beside each hip, fingers in his hair when he continued his journey along your collar bones, wrapping around a pert nipple and sucking gently. You cry out, it’s far more than you’ve ever felt before. So different from your own twirling fingers. He holds the other, lavishing what attention he can with his thumb, humming at every pleasured sound you make.

When you grind down against him, nothing but fabric separating you as he settles between your lips, knowing he’s the first to ever feel you like this, that he will be the only one, his hips buck at the thought. Until he’s moving of his own accord because each brush drags the most beautiful music from your throat, turning his attention to your other straining nipple seems to push you higher. Pants, mewls, mangled cries, sounds he’d never even begun to imagine from you until he can’t take it anymore. Even through the fabric of his briefs you’ve begun to slick his aching cock, whether it’s you, him, or the concoction running through your veins doesn’t matter. What matters is finally making you his. In every way. It’s his turn to shred your clothing, the tony panties seeming to disintegrate between his fingers, your own digging into the sweat-slicked skin of his shoulders. He pulls away just long enough to yank the elastic of his undergarments to his knees, letting gravity and his legs do the rest. 

Your disappointed mewl is lost when his lips kiss along the boney valley between your breasts. The silky smoothness of his shaft is so much different than the fabric. He’s warm and somehow hard, he pulses against you, it makes you desperate. To feel him melt into your skin, to make you a part of him in every way, if anything could the re-agent would be able to. It’s like he can feel it too, as if there’s some cosmic thread tying you both together. You had never dared to hope and yet it’s the only thing that makes sense.

A frustrated groan tumbles from your lips, brows wrinkling as your body clamped around nothing, not sure what you needed only knowing it isn’t this desperate sensation of emptiness, “I see you,” he whispers, taking your face in his hands, forcing your gaze to his own smoldering eyes, “I’ve  always  seen you,” you’ve never felt your heart so full.

“I know,” you gasp, your nose pressing the hollow of his throat, feeling his hands explore your spine, leaving shivers in his wake, “I should have believed your eyes,” the tip of your tongue replacing it and dragging upward, tasting the salt of his skin is sure to drive you to the edge of insanity, “They can’t lie,” your lips brushing against his as you spoke, a hand appears on your hip, lifting you up,  away .

He kisses you,  hard,  the copper tang till a taste only you fills his senses as he pulls you back down. Pushing softly yet firmly at your sopping hole, forcing himself to focus even when he wants to lose himself in the tightness of you, searching your eyes. There was no pain, had there been it would’ve taken over your very being in a moment like this. You simply kiss him harder, your hips canting forward as you shrieked against his lips. A sound he swallowed down, something to keep deep down inside himself when you tried to hide from him again. A reminder that would remind him to never let you do so again. Until you’re flush against him, pelvis slippery with your juice as you gently rocked against him. Head thrown back he let’s go, feeling your walls flutter against him at the foreign and welcome intrusion. Your clitoris stimulated by the slick roughness of his hair where your bodies were joined, your hands explore his chest. Until your palms were flush against his front and you rose ever so slightly on your knees, falling back against him with a pleasured cry.

His grip on your hips is bruising, he’ll dance his lips along every beautiful mark later, for now he helps you rock against him as he moves his own. You fall against him like a rag doll, chin on his shoulder, crying out over and over as he moves against you. Into you. A part of you. Already you’re tightening around him, moans desperate and confused, not quite sure what your body is preparing for. He runs his lips along your temple, cooing words of encouragement, of need. Until those final two;  let go .

You feel as if you are the very definition of untethered. Nothing seems to control you. Life, death, Daniel. Control is a myth. Your blood is on fire, hotter than anything you’ve ever felt. It’s falling, it’s flying, it’s desperately wanting to slide beneath his skin and feel like this forever. Until all you are anymore is nerves and pure need. When you crawl back to some semblance of reality, panting and desperate for more, he’s looking at you. Thumbs tracing the fevered skin of your cheeks, calming his hips even when they seemed desperate to surge forward and pound you through the floor, you’ve never imagined anyone could look at anyone else like he was you.

With awe. 

**  
  
  
**


End file.
